Greaser Diaries
by JuliannaGrl
Summary: It’s 1996. A girl finds a diary hidden inside a piano. Someone from Tulsa tells her own story, past and present. What about the future? Read and discover. Features greasers, socs, everybody.
1. One

I wrote this story in 1996 after I finished reading 'The Outsiders'. I have to warn ya, though, that English is my second language, I'm from Brazil and the story was originally written in Portuguese, I'm translating it bit by bit. This means that you may find some wrong stuff concerning to vocabulary or grammar. It's not like I care anyway; I'm learning a lot and having a real good time translating it. Hope you have fun too.  
  
I own all the characters that don't belong to S.E. Hinton. Well you've read the book, so you probably know about it.  
  
Be patient. Our favorite greasers won't appear until chapters 2 and 3.  
  
Chapter One  
  
Since she was seven, Carol dreamed of having a piano. Now she was 15 and still wasn't able to fulfill it. Nevertheless, she kept on going with her music lessons, and one could say she was the best in her class.  
  
It didn't seem fair that stupid little rich girls at school had all that nice clothes, could travel all around and lived in such beautiful houses while all she wanted was a simple and cheap piano to practice her music. She had spent the last eleven months, almost the entire year of 1996, working as a babysitter and translating as many texts as she could (her father was born in France, so Carol spoke French as perfectly as she spoke English), so that maybe, just maybe, she could get the instrument in the current year of 1997. Her friend Alice told her about a shop that sold second hand instruments and she was hoping to find a simple, but good piano in the middle of all that trash. Even if it was old, it didn't matter – probably it *would* be old, since the money she had would not do for anything so new.  
  
Walking down the street, alone, the wind playing with her blonde hair, Carol was going towards the shop, thinking about the effort she had to do to save that tiny amount of money. She knew that some of her classmates could have a beautiful Steinway with a simple snap of their fingers.  
  
"Oh stop it, you moron" told Carol to herself. "The only thing that matters is that I will be able to play when I feel like it. Besides, I don't think that stupid girls Donna Bishop or Cindy Anderson even know what a Steinway piano is!"  
  
She detained herself in front of the address which Alice had written in a tiny piece of paper, too tiny, as a matter of fact, for her big handwriting. It was a little shop with a little door painted in orange, that seemed so lost among the big buildings of Sutton Avenue. The store clerk was a short mexican type, and Carol's first thought was that he seemed a lot like someone who could sell ice to the Eskimos or something like that. She asked for the pianos, he gave her a toothless grin and showed some, giving her the prices as well.  
  
"Oh... everything is so expensive" Carol shook her head in disappointment.  
  
"In that case" answered the Mexican guy "I think that one will suit you" He pointed an old, small, ugly piano which lied there, against a wall. Her eyes glared; it didn't matter whether it was old or not, as long as the sound was good. Carol asked the clerk if she could play the piano a little and didn't even wait for his response: she just sat in front of it and started to test all the keys. Finally, when she was done, the Mexican guy seemed surprise when Carol smiled in satisfaction and asked him how much would he extra-charge her to deliver it.  
  
Four days later, hearing the engine of the old truck driven by the Mexican type getting away from her house, and admiring the piano she bought, which now was placed in a corner of her living room, Carol felt the greatest happiness in her life. Her mother had complained the piano was too big for their small home, and her sister Karen, who was 9, didn't like to hear Carol's music, but she didn't care. On the other hand, all her father did was compliment her and repeat to whoever was listening that his girl was going to be a great musician.  
  
What was Carol waiting for to start playing anyway? There she was, playing "Edelweiss", happy in spite of the racket her sister was making trying to get her to stop. Everything was going just fine until she found out that some of the keys of the piano were stuck.  
  
"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" She yelled in her thoughts "Caroline, how in the world do you buy a piano without examining the chords first???" She would have to open the piano to see its inside, so she reached for its lid. Surprise, surprise: she would have to screw off the lid, and there were more than 20 screws on it. "Great". Cursing, she went to the basement and returned with one of her father's screwdrivers. It took her more than 40 minutes to remove all the screws and open the piano lid.  
  
"What a weird piano..." In the inside there was some small shelves, which contained black and white pictures. Leaning over the chords there was a hard cover book. Carol imagined the book was placed on the shelves just like the pictures were but, when the Mexican moved the piano to deliver it to her, the book must have moved and fell over the chords.  
  
She got the photos and then stretched her arm to reach for the book. The cover was blue and had golden initials on it. "S.M.J.", she read. On its first page it was written, in a beautiful handwriting, the words "My Diary". Unable to understand a thing, Carol started to look at the pictures, trying to pay as much attention to it as she could, so that maybe she could figure out what that weird stuff was doing inside *her* piano.  
  
The pictures were all black and white. Several pictures of a rather pretty girl, with long, straight, dark hair. There were boys too, wearing leather jackets, their greasy hair shining like if they were characters in a sixties' movie.  
  
All of a sudden Carol felt like she was invading someone's intimacy. It wasn't right; she had to return that stuff to its owner, whoever he or she was. She started to think about a way to find this person, examined the rest of the piano's interior for some name or address or sign, but couldn't find a thing. Then, she realized that the only way to discover who was the owner of the photos and the book was... reading it. 


	2. Two

Chapter Two  
  
As if she was comitting a crime, Carol sat on her mother's couch, opened the book and started reading:  
  
I decided to open that suitcase today. There, by the time I moved to Houston, I locked all my memories and never opened it again. Until now. Damn. I hate this memories, I hate knowing these things happened and won't ever come back.  
  
This diary, for instance. Why the hell do I have it for, like, 8 years, and never touched it before? I don't know, maybe it's because I always thought it was idiot to talk to a notebook. Besides, when you're 9 and you live in a poor neighborhood, you don't have much to tell.  
  
Well, I'm 17 now and still live in a poor neighborhood, even if it is in another town. I don't have interesting stuff to tell either (only sad, sad stuff...), but this time the feeling of loss was stronger than me and I had to go mess with my memories, my old stuff, the things I kept from my childhood.  
  
I remember when I got this notebook. It was a gift, I was turning 9 and my godmother Cynthia Curtis gave it to me. She made the blue cover and painted the golden letters on it with a special ink – S.M.J. for Susan Mary Jones. She said that my name was so, so pretty, the prettiest...  
  
Susie, you moron, it's not time for you to cry. Yeah, Cynthia must be near God and your father right now... Shit. So childish. Is there a God, really? What am I supposed to think, with both of my parents dead? Am I supposed to be glad by loosing my mom with 13 and my dad with 17, to live in a city where everybody is strange to me, being afraid that someone put me in a home for 9 months because I don't have a single relative alive??? Oh fuck. I want my mother. I want my father. My godfather, my godmother, my former home in Tulsa...  
  
I've counted to 10 and stopped cryin. Let me explain again. It was this piercing feeling of loss that made me open that suitcase full of pictures, toys, clothes, letters. This diary was in it too. I always managed to stay far from this suitcase, hiding it as much as I could, fearing the memories and the pain they would probably bring. But now I'm alone. Yeah, like I said before, I'm all alone. I needed the suitcase for company.  
  
Let's get back to my 9 years old then. Happy times. I remember my mother baking chocolate cakes (God I love chocolate, I would kill to have one right now); my dad fixing our old car which was always broke and coughing his lungs off (oh daddy daddy please stop smoking stop please daddy please); my godmother giving me my favorite teddy bear; my godfather taking me to see the horses and telling stories of the country; the boys of the neighborhood playing ball and annoying my dog...  
  
My best friends were Sylvia, Evelyn and Lisa. We went to school together and, as a matter of fact, we kicked some ass. The socy girls were all afraid of us. I was the quieter of them, just got in a fight when it was absolutely necessary, that means, when the socs *really* got into my nerves. And though Lisa, Sylvia and Evelyn always got off a fight cryin over a bite or a pinch, I never cried.  
  
Maybe that was the reason my father always kept telling me that I should be more feminine and, in the rare times he got me clothes, it were long skirts, shoes with laces on it and shirts. I hated using skirts, I had the feeling everybody could spot my underwear and the boys would make fun of me. I liked my jeans, my tees and my sneakers. As a matter of fact, I still do. Besides, shoes and shirts and skirts were too socy. People in our neighborhood hated the socs and vice versa. I didn't really care about socs or greasers, all I just couldn't stand were stupid frivolous people, whoever they were. I loved horseback riding and singin in the city's choir, so I joined the free ballet classes they promoted in the city theatre just to please my dad. I thought he would think it was "feminine". It may sound weird but after some classes I start to really enjoy it. Eventually I would move from Tulsa but it didn't make me stop my singing and ballet lessons.  
  
But wait... me studying ballet didn't mean that I would give up on jeans and sneakers, that I would cut my long dark hair just because fashion was telling to, that I would stop fighting stupid girls. Today, when I think about these fights, I have the urge to burst myself into laughter. I wouldn't go into a fight for nothing. Sylvia or Evelyn, for instance, could fight just because some other kid sat in the place they claim to be theirs. It was reason enough for them to get their fingernails (too long and too red for someone counting 9 or 10 years old) ready. I wouldn't fight for nothing. I wouldn't provoke fights. But if someone called me 'Little Susie' making fun with my height or singing me that horrible "wake up Little Susie" crap, there was trouble.  
  
I could have been expelled from school if it wasn't for my awesome grades. One day, somebody came up with this IQ test idea and then they discovered I was above the standards. It was enough for all of them to take from their heads the idea of inviting me to drop. I was important to maintain a positive image of the school, ya know. Funny thing is, I never thought about me as an intelligent person. In fact I was absolutely sure that there were people like a thousand times smarter than me, the only thing was, they wont show it off. Also, I knew there were lots of stupid people that could fake intelligence so well that everybody believed they were really smart.  
  
My mother's name was Mary. God, I miss her bad. Even when I was little she wouldn't treat me as a dumb kid. She would spoke to me from woman to woman and, sometimes, from girl to girl. She has this bright white skin, she was suave, a little overweight, and had black straight hair like mine. Well, mine is a little lighter. Everybody says I'm mom's copy. Only it is a really long time that I don't see or speak to anyone that knew my mother, since I was 13, not counting dad, of course. Anyway, I grew up, got thinner, got jaded. Mother said that I was a lot like my dad when dealing with work and business matters. I can't stop, I have to be always doing something and dad was like that too. He worked hard on a car shop and always dreamed to have his own. Never made it. He was strict but proud of me, I know it now. I admired him lots. We have our difficulties but I was happy and felt loved and safe. Today, all I can feel is loneliness. 


	3. Three

Yes, I can call myself a Sandy hater, so I made her a little sluttier than she really was. Enjoy.  
  
Chapter Three  
  
Indeed, it was a poor neighborhood. Yeah, we weren't middies, we were really poor. It seemed like another town, isolated from the real one, there were people that were born, lived and died without stepping out of our neighborhood just once.  
  
In general, people there used to help each other. Of course, the greasers sometimes fist fight among themselves and slashed their so called friend's tires, but since we were little, we learned that socs were the real 'enemy'. Not that I liked it. It just seemed uncomfortable for me to hate someone just because.  
  
My mother was born and breed there. Dad was Texan and went to Tulsa to work in a car shop, and so they met. My godmother Cynthia met my mom at school when they were 12, so they practically grew up together and got married almost together either. When I was born, my godmother and godfather already had a 3-year-old son named Darrel, aka Darry. And my mother once told me that, when he saw me sleeping in my white cradle, he said he would always take care of me and protect me from the bad guys (uh, "bad guys"?). And there was more: *he*, and not her father, would be my godfather. That's why I had two godfathers and used to tell everybody about that. It was original.  
  
Darry, my honorary-godfather, was always nice to me. He wouldn't let the other boys make fun of me. Everybody was kinda afraid of him because he always were the big guy in the gang. I wasn't afraid of him though, in fact he seemed colder that he truly was. The thing about Darry wasn't being afraid of him, but knowing how to deal with him. Darry, the older brother I've never had.  
  
His baby brother, Ponyboy, was the younger brother that I also never had. He was 6 years younger than Darry and 3 years younger than me, and was what you can call a dreamer. He had a gift to perceive things that regular people couldn't. We always understood each other quite well, especially after they took that IQ test thing, just like me. He used to say that he liked to go to the movies all alone, otherwise it seemed like someone was reading his book from above his shoulder. But he liked to go with me, and then after we always went for an ice cream while we discussed the movie.  
  
In the middle of Darry and Pony was Soda, born a few months after me. And he wouldn't leave me alone for nothing in this world. We were always fighting. Sodapop Patrick Curtis, born to make fun of me. I hated him, I hated him so much, while the other girls seemed to have real crushes on this kid. Well they wouldn't if he did to them the stupid things he used to do to me. Even so, I miss him much more than I miss anyone else...  
  
It was difficult to make girl-friends in my neighborhood. Most of them were pretty slutty even when they were kids. If they were slutty then, it scares me to imagine how they must be now. God. Sylvia would beat them all, for sure. She and that other girl, Sandra Kane, aka Sandy, who I never liked. The boys, though, were pretty cool. There was Johnny, aka Johnnycake, with that big brown eyes which seemed to be always looking for something missing; there was Two Bit Matthews who liked to play drunk and never would shut his trap. I liked Two Bit, even though I've always hated drunk people.  
  
Steve and Dallas were not that nice. Steve thought that he was too cute, always trying to get everything that used a skirt and weren't a priest or a Scottish. Yeah, he tried that with me a hundred times. And a hundred times I had the urge to break his nose, only didn't because our parents were friends and he was much bigger than me. What, do you think I'm an idiot?  
  
The thin line that separated a greaser from a criminal almost didn't exist in Dallas Winston, like Pony himself told me once (and boy, that was a confession). Ok, every single kid in that neighborhood was kind of a delinquent, got drunk sometimes, rumble and picked stuff from the stores. I didn't enjoy it that much, but after a while I simply stopped caring since I would never be able to change it, so why worry? Really, Dallas was a criminal wannabe. He had every other boys' respect, but only because they feared him. He knew that, I'm sure. And I wonder how he felt about it.  
  
Like I said before, I don't care. I don't care anymore. It just hurts, missing everybody. Besides, anything would be better than these grumpy old ladies who live in my building here in Houston. They keep saying they wanna help... oh yeah sure, big help, they called the major newspapers of the 3 states dad lived in (Texas, Oklahoma and Arizona) and put his name in the obituaries without even asking me. It's so obvious that they're looking forward to see the social assistant coming here and taking me to some girls' home. They're always complaining I play my records too loud. At least I don't have a cat that pisses on the hallways, like one of them do.  
  
This social assistant thing is worrying me sick. I'm 17 years and 3 months old, too big to go to an orphanage or crap like that. I have an interview with her, the social assistant, in 2 weeks. If only I could turn 18 tomorrow. If only I could disappear. 


	4. Four

Chapter Four  
  
June 19th, 1967  
  
I woke up early today. Couldn't sleep any longer, so I started to read all the nonsense I wrote in this diary last night. Promised myself not to do it anymore. But it seems like I've changed my plans. Something happened and my wish to disappear may be granted.  
  
It would be easier if I wasn't so confused. In fact I don't know if I should... Damn. And it's all the old ladies' fault. Nosy grumpy fuckin old ladies. I wish mother were here. No, not here. There in Oklahoma.  
  
It's 11pm now. It was like 6pm when I came home from choir rehearsal, and there was mail for me in my mailbox, which is as rare as an solar eclipse. It was not an exciting envelope, its was plain and white, a telegram. I took a closer look and, oh god, I thought I was seeing things. But I wasn't. The telegram actually came from Tulsa, Ok.  
  
I practically destroyed the envelope in an attempt to open it fast. And furious. There was a short text and a phone number. SAW OBITUARY ON THE PAPER WE ARE WORRIED TRIED TO CALL YOU PHONE IS DISCONNECTED D. CURTIS. There were two Darrel Curtis I knew. One of them had passed away 8 months ago and the other was... my honorary godfather! Oh boy! My first impulse was to call him immediately. Poor Darry, he didn't know I was out of money even to pay the phone bill, after I spent dad's savings and mine to treat him and eventually bury him.  
  
Then I stopped. I felt strange, paralyzed. I had in my hands a telegram from someone I loved very much and hadn't seen in 4 years, saying that he was worried and wanted (needed) to talk to me but, for some reason, I just stood there, unable to reach the public phone around the corner. I had to think.  
  
Think? THINK? T H I N K???? Yeah, it's just that fear isn't something that I feel very often but when I do, its for real. In a minute I was sobbing and very, I mean very confused about what I should do.  
  
I took a deep breath to try to calm down. Slowly, I went down the stairs towards the street and walked. 25 cent coins clinked in my pocket until I stopped moving. I had reached the public phone and that was it, my point of no return. Holding my breath, I started to dial. Ring. Ring. No answer.  
  
It was taking too long for someone to answer it, so I decided to hang up. And I really was about to do it when, finally, the phone was picked up and a male voice said "hello".  
  
Now it was me the one who took a while to speak. "Hello?", he said again, with an interrogative tone in his voice.  
  
"Who's speaking?" I asked softly.  
  
"Ponyboy here."  
  
"Pony... it's so good to hear your voice..."  
  
"Who's calling?" I could tell he was already a little impatient and it was just like him. It didn't seem like the voice I knew, though. Sounded phony, but yes, baby Ponyboy had grown up.  
  
"Pony, hey... it's Susie. Susan Mary" I said slowly, with the ridiculous feeling that he could not remember me. This numbness was broken when he yelled:  
  
"Oh Glory, Susan, hey Darry, it's Susie on the phone! I missed you girl!" He was yelling his lungs off and I couldn't help crying.  
  
"Hey kiddo" I forced myself to speak "I'm missing you so much too... how are you???"  
  
"Oh, fine, I mean... all the same I guess. How are YOU? We were so goddam worried..."  
  
"I'm ok now" I said it and smiled as he could see my face "I got the telegram. Darry asked me to call ya. How is he anyway?"  
  
"He's here and he's jealous of me talking to you" he laughed "ok, ok, ok Darry, you don't need to be that nervous..."  
  
Of course the thing in my mind was... boy, they had grown up! Of course Pony wasn't still the 10 year old baby; probably he was even taller than me (which was never difficult by the way). Weird.  
  
"Susie!" That was Darry.  
  
"Hey, honorary godfather" I said, and he laughed "I got your message. I'm missing you. And, believe me, I'm scared to death"  
  
"Calm down hun. Tell me everything from the beginning"  
  
I sighed and started telling him. Four days ago, I didn't go to ballet rehearsal, went straight from kindergarten to home. I think I still haven't explained, dear fuckin diary, that finally my high IQ thing did me some good: since dad stopped working like 10 months before he passed away, after his lung crisis got worse, we both needed money and I was the one who would have to get it. All the teachers always said that I knew more and could learn more that 'regular people' and plus, I liked kids. So, I took a test to become a kindergarten teacher and was easily approved. Well, on that day I was too tired to dance so I skipped my rehearsal, went home and there, everything was pretty much normal.  
  
That night, I was watching a little tv but not paying any attention at all, and dad came in the room. He'd been sleeping the whole afternoon. He stopped in front of me and tried to say something but he just couldn't; he tottered and then, he fell, hardly managing to breathe. I got up and stood there for a second or two, paralyzed with fear. Then I suddenly woke up and ran to ask the neighbor for God's sake to use his phone to call an ambulance. And so he did, and while the ambulance didn't come I tried to do CPR on dad, as his doctor once taught me to. Every night before bed I asked all the saints never to have to do such thing. Even though I always wanted to be a doctor to take care of people, it never occurred to me before that my dad could be the one care-taken.  
  
At the hospital, they took dad to surgery. Doctors won't try to deceive me, so I knew he had little chances to escape. He died 5 hours later.  
  
After I told him that, I heard Darry say:  
  
"Susie, I..."  
  
"Relax, man" I went on "I'm not done yet." And I fell tears rolling down my face "There is a social assistant coming to meet me in 2 weeks. She is probably sending me to an institution or something!"  
  
"No" he said "she can't."  
  
"Oh yes, she can. You know, I've been through a lot more than many older people. I was supporting my dad using money from my own work. At the same time I work in the kindergarten, I also dance, sing in a choir, go to school and have pretty good grades. Now, they want to convince me that all this stuff is worthless, putting me in an institution like if I was some mentally ill." I almost screamed.  
  
"Calm down, honey, please" he almost begged.  
  
"Darry, I'm not the coward type and you know that. But now I'm scared."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Darry?" I said "You there?"  
  
I could hear him catching a breath. Then he said:  
  
"You're coming here, Susan. You're coming to our house."  
  
"What?" I couldn't believe he was actually saying that "But then I'll be sort of a... fugitive! Yeah! Besides, if someone catches me there, we will both be in deep deep trouble."  
  
"I know, I know, Susie" he knew, for sure. "But... come on, it's just 9 months. Like... yeah, like vacations."  
  
"Oh I don't know about that, Darry, I really don't".  
  
"Hey, you know I swore to protect my little god daughter from the mean people, don't you?"  
  
When I heard him calling me his 'little god daughter', then I started to cry. For real.  
  
"Ok, ok" I agreed, and I confess it wasn't that difficult "I think I can find some kindergarten there in Tulsa, and probably I won't have trouble to join the City's Choir. I'm pretty sure I can pass the exam on Tulsa's Ballet" hey, I was starting to sound excited. "I just have to get some resumees without telling anyone I'm running away."  
  
"*Going* away" he corrected me. "Just one second, Susie".  
  
"Ok"  
  
Darry was now talking to someone else: "Soda, there are pancakes in the fridge! You have to eat right, little buddy"  
  
I started trembling. Yeah, I always tremble when I hear *that* name. Slowly, I began to realize it was his house that I was going to. I could hear his answer to Darry: "Ok, general. Who's on the phone?"  
  
Darry told him it was me. And I was petrified when heard his voice asking something like "Susan who?" Hey, could someone throw a rock in my head? Come on, Sodapop, don't hurt me more, don't hurt me that bad.  
  
Of course Darry replied him with a "Susan Mary, of course, how many Susan Marys do you know?" and he just said, as if he was completely indifferent about me or my very existence, that if Darry needed him he'd be in his room. Oh shit.  
  
Then Darry came back to me:  
  
"So you get all your things straight, Susie, and call me tomorrow or on the day after. Come as fast as you can, honey. I will just love to have you here. Everything is going to be fine, ok? Don't cry..."  
  
I hung up the phone and walked home. It seemed like the only ones in the world were me and my stuff. Oh, Soda, do you still hate me after all this time? 


	5. Five

Chapter Five  
  
Of course it may sound funny that in the first place I said Soda was my childhood enemy and I couldn't stand him; and after, I got really sad because of what he said.  
  
When we were little, we fought almost everyday. He used to say I was the stupidiest ugliest girl in the neighborhood. That went on until we had, uhm, 12 years old, back in 1962, five years from now.  
  
I remember the day we made our peace as if it was yesterday. Sodapop had a horse named Mickey Mouse, only if it wasn't his, actually Mickey Mouse belonged to the farm where Soda worked. Well, whoever was Mickey Mouse's owner, everybody knew that it was a mean horse. The only person Mickey Mouse obeyed and liked was Soda, they knew each other very well and loved each other.  
  
One day Soda went to work and Mickey Mouse weren't there. Soda called his name, looked for him all over the place and couldn't find him anywhere. Then he had the great idea of going to the administration office and ask the farm manager what was happening and where was his horse. The office was empty, so Soda started to look at the horses files. In Mickey Mouse's file there was stamp in which he read the word "SOLD".  
  
That day I went to the Curtis' place with a big slice of apple pie mom had cooked. I knocked the door and no one answered. Actually I tried to play polite knocking on their door, cause it was always open anyway. I saw a light coming from inside and decided to go in.  
  
My first stop was the kitchen, where I left the pie. The door that led to the boys' room was half opened, so I looked inside. Soda was sitting on his bed, staring at his shoes and, amazing thing, he was crying. I felt sorry for him, maybe because never before I would've thought that boy could cry.  
  
"What happened?" I finally decided to ask.  
  
He looked up just to murmur an "none-of-your-business", his words intercalated with sobs, and then looked down again.  
  
Oh boy, that irritated me. After all I was the one worrying about him, and all he could do was being a jerk. I was about to tell him to go screw himself, but then I thought about our mothers who were like sisters; about the two of us knowing each other and living in the same neighborhood since we were born. Maybe it was just about time for us to stop acting like bawling babies.  
  
I sat beside him and said:  
  
"I brought a big slice of apple pie mother made, do you want some?"  
  
He hadn't time to answer. I ran to cut us a piece of it and then went back to his room and handled it to him. I could hardly believe when he thanked me.  
  
We ate quietly. As for me, I'd already done too much, now it was his turn to make a move, I mean, if he was really interested in being my friend. If not, I could do no more.  
  
"Do I look like a stupid kid bawling like this" he asked me.  
  
"You don't look like a stupid kid. You are a stupid kid" I grinned and kept on talking "no, I'm just making a little fun of you, Soda, as you always did to me. In fact, I'm kinda relieved to see you crying."  
  
"Are you out of your mind?" he shrieked  
  
"Hey, calm down. Its just that before I thought about you like an idiot who wasn't capable to feel. Now I know that you do feel. It's a good thing, ya know"  
  
"I've been like this, I mean, kind of emotional, my entire life, Susan" he sighed. "Do you live in another planet or what?"  
  
"Oh, come on. You have never showed before. Well, at least, you have never showed *me*" I replied. "Now I know the reason why Pony is always saying that you're probably the greatest guy on earth. But how should I know that, if you never showed me?"  
  
"Yeah. You're right, I guess. I'm sorry"  
  
After I accepted his apologies, he told me about Mickey Mouse. He was right, it was better not to talk about it to anyone, except maybe for Pony, because his parents could be resentful since they probably would never have money enough to buy Mickey Mouse for him.  
  
I asked him please, please, please, to cheer up. I told him Mickey Mouse would always be his. I told him a lot of things which I don't quite remember now. He cried a lot. And suddenly, Sodapop Curtis, the greatest enemy I've ever had, was hugging me and crying. 


	6. Six

Chapter Six  
  
Two days later my godfather Darrel Curtis called me and told me I could go horseback riding. He worked on a farm and knew I would go every time he said I could, I've always loved horses, rodeos and horseback riding around with no destination.  
  
But my mother wouldn't let me go by myself, so we argued. What was the big deal about it? I just had to take a bus and be back before it was dark. My excuses didn't work, she didn't want me to go alone. Period.  
  
I went anyway. This is me, kind of a rebel, I was then and still am now. Anyway my rebelliousness was not the point; the point was I just couldn't afford to miss an opportunity to go horseback riding.  
  
So there was I, waiting for the bus to come, when I see Sodapop coming, his hair shining brighter than the sunlight. He smiled. He was always smiling for everybody, but it was rare seeing him smiling for me. And then I realized why Lisa, Sandy and a lot of other girls, even the rich ones, were all out of their breath when he passed them by.  
  
Well, I knew how proud and insolent he could be, so I didn't even expected him to talk to me. But he did.  
  
"Hey Susie"  
  
"Hey" I replied. "Are you catching a bus or what?"  
  
"As a matter of fact" oh jeez, he grinned again "I am."  
  
"Where to?" I was getting curious.  
  
"To meet dad at the farm" if I was curious, he was mysterious.  
  
"Do you work on Sundays now?"  
  
"I don't. Its just that I went to your house to talk to you and your mother was really pissed, she said you are such a rebel" he was grinning again "I told her this wasn't news. And don't give me that look, Susan Mary, you won't scary me".  
  
"Well, what else?" I tried to look disinterested.  
  
"She also said you were going to the farm by yourself, which of course is very dangerous for a 12 year old chick"  
  
"I'll be 13 in 6 days, Soda."  
  
"I know, Susie, I know. Just don't interrupt me, ok? Well, then I told her I could keep her little rebel baby company. If the little rebel baby agreed, of course." I had never seen Sodapop talk to me so nicely. Ok, he was always nice and cheerful and happy, but he was never nice to me.  
  
I tried to play proud:  
  
"It's a public bus, you can ride it if you want to"  
  
"Oh yeah? Well then, I think I'll go meet dad on the farm" he said that and sat next to me in the bus.  
  
I was getting a little mixed up. Would it be possible all that was because Mickey Mouse and the stuff I said to him a little while ago? Or it was because he was all too tired to mess with me? I wanted so bad to find out.  
  
"So, you went to my house looking for me, huh? What did you want anyway?"  
  
"Well Susie, I wanted to tell ya..." I realized he didn't really know what to say. "I don't know... well... thanks for everything you've said and done that day."  
  
I didn't answer, so he went on talking:  
  
"I also wanted to say you're not the ugliest chick in the neighborhood."  
  
"Oh thank you very very much Sodapop" I laughed out loud "I guess now I have to say that you're not the most idiot guy in the neighborhood"  
  
It's incredible how I remember all this stuff so clearly. That day, Soda and I spent like 6 or 7 hours horseback riding and watching rodeo practice. Soda could ride practically any horse and I found that amazing. And it was almost time to leave and we decided to make a stop so that our horses could take some rest.  
  
We sat on the lawn, both quiet. Seemed like silence bothered Soda, so he started trying to begin a conversation:  
  
"Did you know Two bit got Phoebe Mills?"  
  
Jesus, I just hated when they used the verb "to get" when referring to girls. It was rude. Two Bit, by the way, loved blondes. He had almost 15 back then and he already chased them. Phoebe Mills was blonde alright and looked like the good girl in the neighborhood but, for Two Bit's luck, she wasn't a good girl at all.  
  
"Do you know her, don't you?" soda asked me  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"You know what, Susie? You're such a weirdo, ya know."  
  
"Are you gonna start to offend me, is that it?"  
  
"No, I didn't mean to. All I meant was... I don't know, you are not like the other girls. Like Phoebe, Sylvia, Evelyn, all of them."  
  
"Oh, big news" I said with a hint of irony in my voice.  
  
"You hardly ever wear make up or nail polish. You don't want to get blonde or have your hair permed. You wont even cut your hair, even everybody saying short hair is fashion. Your clothes are different, too. But the funniest thing is you behave different. You don't speak loud, you don't curse all the time, you don't spend your days and nights flirting with everybody..."  
  
"Now listen to me, Sodapop Curtis" I interrupted angrily. "If you think I'm going to sit here and listen to all this bullshit about you thinking of me as a silly little kid, just forget about it!"  
  
I was almost on my feet, but he grabbed my arm and made me sit again.  
  
"Hey, calm down, I didn't say that"  
  
"What did you want, then, Soda?" I was still yelling. "Did you want me to be like them? Well, I don't wanna be like them at all! And as for me, they can be however they want to, it's not my business, ok? Just because I hang out with them, that doesn't mean I have to look like them or act like them. So what if Evie already sleeps with Steve, or should it be of my concern what a 13 year old like Phoebe does when she's all alone with her guy? I don't care, ok? And if you are interested of knowing why I've never kissed anyone, that's just because I never felt like it! Shit!"  
  
"What did you say?" he asked me in a lower voice  
  
"I said SHIT!"  
  
"No, before that. Did you say you have never kissed a guy?"  
  
"Yes, I did say that. And I'm so not embarrassed, ok? Of course I had all the opportunities I could have had. If you don't believe me, just start to pay attention in the way your buddies Steve and even Dallas look at me. I said I never felt like it and that's the whole truth."  
  
"Never?" now he was almost whispering.  
  
"No, never"  
  
"Are you quite sure?" he stared at me, his hair glowing amazingly.  
  
"No... I mean... yes..." that guy was really confusing me.  
  
"Let me tell you something then" he said.  
  
"Shoot."  
  
"It's a secret, ok?"  
  
"Cut it out, Soda."  
  
"There is a girl I never could kiss." He didn't say "get" and I thought it was much better that way.  
  
"So what" I said, sighing. "When she discovers it, she'll be in your arms in no time, since all of them think you are such a doll."  
  
"I'm afraid she doesn't think I'm any doll. And there's one thing more"  
  
"What is that?"  
  
Then he came real close. Our noses were almost touching and I could feel his breath. All I could think was 'what in the world is this guy doing, is he nuts?' Then he said something that made all my body tremble:  
  
"She never felt like kissing anyone. But I think now she does."  
  
Sodapop gave me my first kiss. It lasted like 15 seconds and I didn't exactly new what to do, other than tremble and sweat. He smiled, and all I could say was "let's go home, it's getting dark." 


	7. Seven

I already found some tiny little mistakes in my fic, not to mention the silly vocabulary... but I'll keep writing anyway. Let's move to  
  
Chapter Seven  
  
So that was how we've started to hang out together. More and more, we were attaching to each other. Like glue. We went to the farm together almost every weekend; to basketball games and even to the movies, that he didn't like that much. It didn't matter anyway, Sodapop Patrick Curtis and Susan Mary Jones were just having the biggest fun in the world.  
  
Everything was going just fine. Today, I would have been suspicious of such happiness and would surely get ready for something bad to happen. But not back then, I wasn't jaded than as I am now. I was just being happy.  
  
One afternoon, I was doing my homework while dad watched TV. Mother had left two hours ago, she needed to buy us some stuff to eat. I answered the phone when it rang, some unknown voice asked to speak to dad. And while dad listened to the things the unknown voice was telling him, he was getting more and more pale, and suddenly he fell, twisting his body as if he was feeling some kind of... pain.  
  
Then he ran. He just stood up and ran without telling me what was happening or where was he going. I just couldn't do anything about it, so I tried to get back to my homework. But dad's behavior made me uneasy. Why would he leave like that, with fear in his face?  
  
Dad came back four hours later. He found me in the kitchen fixing supper while I drank a glass of orange juice. Truth was, he had been called by the police. He needed to go recognize the body of a woman who was hit by a car seven blocks away from our house. Mother was dead.  
  
The sound of breaking glass, and the linoleum of our kitchen was suddenly dyed in orange. I couldn't cry, I was simply petrified. And I didn't hug dad either, maybe because he was an extremely cold person, even concerning his own daughter. Or maybe because I just didn't feel like hugging anybody.  
  
It was my turn to get out of the house running. I just wanted to run towards the end of the world, to run and to get where my mother were, to hold her with all my strength and explain the police that the body they've found couldn't be mother's, because obviously mother would never leave me...  
  
I didn't mean to hurt dad not hugging him. Inside my disturbed mind there was no reason to hug him, no reason at all, cause mother wouldn't leave me for nothing in this world. and since thinking about this now won't do no good, I'll just keep telling my story. Well, I ran, and maybe I would indeed get to the end of the world if I didn't bumped into Sodapop on my way there.  
  
Looking at that fresh, glowing face made me fall apart. Now I was hugging Soda the tighter I could, sobbing like never before. The worst pain I've felt in all my life so far. He wouldn't say a thing, cause he knew me we too well to understand that I didn't want to talk, all I needed to do was cry.  
  
I got sick from being miserable, and spent 3 entire days in bed. Soda wouldn't leave me, even though I kept being harsh to him all the time. Then I gave it up and started to talk to him about mom. Sometimes he cried too, he loved mom, everybody loved mom. Sod was the only one I wanted to talk to.  
  
Dad was sick too. His lungs were no good and he wouldn't quit smoking. Then one day, maybe the next Tuesday, he came home earlier from the car shop and made a simple statement:  
  
"We're taking off to Houston in five hours. Get your things ready." 


	8. Eight

Kinda short chapter...  
  
Chapter Eight  
  
Today, I know better. Back then, though, I wasn't able to understand that all daddy wanted to do was run away from his memories. Yeah, it really sounds like me, I didn't want to open my suitcase filled with mementos either. Anyway, back then I couldn't understand what he was doing, in fact I thought he was out of his mind (yeah, Susan, he was) to even think of going away from Tulsa, the city where mother had grown up and which she loved, and where all our friends lived. Our friends, the people who could help us carry on.  
  
Well, he made me his statement and I ran again, guess where to. I had to find Soda, of course. But his house's door was locked and the windows were all shut. I started to bang on the door and cry desperately, calling for him, for Darry, for Pony, for my godfather and godmother. Nobody was there. It took me a while to give up banging on the door, but I did, and then sat on the porch, crying, looking at the bruises I had gotten in my right hand from the bangs.  
  
Two bit was passing by. He had a black eye, a gift from a big cowboy who happened to have a blonde girlfriend with whom Two bit had the bad luck to mess.  
  
"Hey Susan Curtis" he said "What's up, broad?"  
  
Then I told him I was leaving and he gave me the bad news: the Curtis family was enjoying a day at the farm and wouldn't be back before 10 pm. Two bit could be the funny guy and all that stuff, but he wasn't a jerk at all, he knew exactly what I was going through and maybe he could understand dad's behavior better than I did.  
  
"Well" it was strange to see Two bit talking seriously "we're gonna miss you, girl. You take care"  
  
We said goodbye and both followed our ways. I was almost at the corner when I remembered something very, very important.  
  
"Hey Two bit!" I yelled. "can I ask you something?"  
  
"Anything."  
  
"Would you tell Sodapop... would you deliver him a message?"  
  
"Sure."  
  
I took my school notebook and a pen from my backpack and then, trembling, wrote something in capital letters: NEVER AGAIN I WILL SAY I NEVER FELT LIKE IT. SAVE A KISS FOR ME. SUSAN. 


	9. Nine

Chapter Nine  
  
So, here I am. In two or three days, this little apartment in Houston will no longer be my house. I can't tell what time it is, but I can sense it's late. Probably I will stay up all night waiting, waiting, wanting...  
  
Mom died 4 years ago. Dad died 4 days ago. And Soda, well, he still can't understand that if I hurt him, it wasn't on purpose at all... it would be so much easier if he could just understand that I had no choice.  
  
As soon as I got here, 4 years ago, I called him. We would never come to the phone. I talked to his parents, his brothers, I talked to Two bit, to Steve and even to Dally! Everybody understood my situation, except for him. They all answered my letters but him. Everytime one of my letters to him returned I felt like banging my head against the wall. I was suffering and, eventually, I decided to stop writing him for good.  
  
Until eight months ago, when his parents died in a car crash. It was Two bit's mother that wrote me about it, since our phone had already been disconnected. I spent a week asking myself why. Why so much pain, God, why? I thought about Darry, I knew he was going to suffer bad since he weren't good about getting things off his chest. Also, I was sure that Ponyboy would jump in a state of permanent aloofness. And Soda, oh God, his violent emotions could end up killing him.  
  
I received Mrs. Matthews letter and decided to run to Tulsa in that very moment. But in the next minute, I heard dad in the kitchen, coughing real hard. I couldn't leave him, his lungs were getting worse. What if something happened and I wasn't there for him?  
  
I couldn't go, and I knew Soda would hate me even more for that. Besides, I had talked to Lisa a few months ago and she had told me Soda and Sandy Kane were going out together. Yeah, I would have to leave her help him, because I really couldn't.  
  
Darry and Pony understood me quite well, they knew what I was going through and also knew that, if I could choose, I would have chosen being with them. I just asked him a favor, I was going to write Soda a letter and asked Pony please to make him read it. Just once, and I would be satisfied.  
  
"Dear Sodapop,  
  
Mrs. Matthews told me about everything that has happened. I wanted to be with you there, so bad it even hurts. I know I was supposed to be there. Its not my right to blame you if you're angry at me, I know that you're right and I'm writing this letter to beg for your pardon.  
  
Father is getting worse lately. I've been skipping work a lot and, when I manage to go, I just keep worrying all the time. This is the reason why I can't be there by your side. But my heart is with you since that afternoon in the farm. I hope Two bit has handed you my message, I feel like it now, I hope you're really saving a kiss for me. Believe me, I know how you feel. Don't forget I've lost my mother too. I've cried and I was afraid. But think about it all. Think about them, how they would like you to handle this. You're almost a copy of your father, so do like he would. Take care of your brothers because you're the bond that attaches them. I'm sure your parents were proud of that.  
  
I wanted to be there. But I just can't...  
  
Love ya very much,  
  
Susie"  
  
I wasn't expecting any answer. Probably for the best, of course I knew it wouldn't come. 


	10. Ten

Chapter Ten  
  
June 20th, 1967  
  
Yesterday I went to bed late because I was writing those crap, got up late this morning and missed school. Even though, I went there to ask for a copy of my school resume, which I will need if I plan to finish my studies in Tulsa. The principal's secretary wouldn't give it to me for no reason, so I had to tell her I was going to enroll in a biology group of studies, and they needed it. Piece of cake.  
  
The documents I needed from kindergarten weren't that easy to get. As a matter of fact such thing only was possible because the assistant to the principal is my friend. I told her I was looking for a job that would pay me a little more and asked her to keep it as a secret. And, in a few moments, I had a resume containing all the info I needed, including the stupid IQ thing.  
  
After that I went to talk to the Choir's director, Ms. Collins. She was really nice to me and promised to call Tulsa's Choir, recommending me. I didn't talk to my ballet teacher because I know in Tulsa they won't accept recommendations, I'll have to take a test and cross my fingers. And now I wonder if telling Ms. Collins that I'm taking off was a dumb thing to do. It's just that when I went to her I was already out of excuses. I hope this won't get me into trouble, one thing that I really don't need now is more to think about.  
  
I was going to call Darry today, but I decided to leave it till tomorrow, when I'll have to get up early to go buy my bus tickets anyway. Plus, I don't feel like going out now, I had a busy day and I'm sad and tired. I wouldn't stand hearing Soda asking "Susan who?" again. Now I just have to conceal my feelings and lie, telling I don't feel like it anymore...  
  
This sucks, going to live with people that aren't really family. I feel so... embarrassed. Yes, embarrassed. People will change their routines and their behavior for me. I will be one more person in a small and already crowded house. I don't know about that, but it seems like I don't really have a choice.  
  
I also don't know if that piece of work Sodapop will like having me living in his house for 9 months, until I turn 18 but, for sure, he'll have one more reason to hate me if I don't go. 


	11. Eleven

Guys, I would like to thank you for your reviews and for your encouragement, I was a little shy at first but now I'm getting more excited. I'm learning a lot translating this fic. There's more to come!!  
  
Chapter Eleven  
  
June 23rd, 1967  
  
And so I did exactly how I had planned, bought my tickets valid to 6/23/67 and called the boys to ask them to pick me up at the bus terminal. At first, I tried several times and their phone was always busy. After I while it wasn't anymore, but I was sure that was Soda's "hello" and hung up like if I was a little girl playing a trick on somebody.  
  
I tried again a few hours later and this time, Pony picked up the phone and told me he was home alone, so I gave him all the directions.  
  
"But" he said "how are you going to be dressed? What if we don't recognize you?"  
  
"You're gonna recognize me cause I'll kick your ass if you don't recognize me!"  
  
I spent that days packing my stuff. Discretely, so that no one would notice it. While I did it, I caught myself thinking about all the things that happened to me in Houston, where I have lived for 4 years. I guess I had no real friends there; sometimes I used to go out with Barbara, the assistant to the principal of the kindergarten where I worked, and her friend used to get along too.  
  
In Houston I had 2 boyfriends. First there was Arnold. His behavior was much like Dallas Winston's, only he was from Texas. They didn't look alike, while Dallas had almost white hair and was kinda skinny, Arnold was athletic and had very short, dark hair. I liked him, but it didn't last, mostly because I didn't feel like going to bed with him. It was better to dump him, and so I did. Once he tried to force me to do stuff and I told him we were through and actually spitted on his face. Well, I had to run like hell, if I got caught by him he would break my nose without even thinking.  
  
Then there was Irving, and he was a real sweet. It lasted almost a year and it was good, but I weren't exactly crazy in love with him. Did I hurt him? I guess so, he even cried when I told her I didn't want to be his girl anymore. We have the bad habit of thinking that, in this life, we're always getting screwed, but I think we don't pay much attention when we are screwing someone else. Who's to blame? Anybody, I guess.  
  
On my way to Tulsa, I sat on the bus window to see some sights. It was a black, dark night. "bye Texas" I thought. "I hope I never see ya again."  
  
I didn't know if I was feeling happy or sad. 


	12. Twelve

Chapter Twelve  
  
I took a nap and, when I opened my eyes again, I was almost in Tulsa.  
  
"Oklahoma!" I shivered, wondering how everybody was doing, how were Darry and Pony, Steve, Johnnycake, and Two Bit, and Lisa dearest, Evie, Dally, and everybody else? Well, in that last time I spoke to Ponyboy on the phone, he told me anybody but the Curtis knew I was coming back. "Imagine Two Bit's face when he sees you", he had said. Yeah. Imagine.  
  
As for Soda, I was scared to death to face him. I wasn't sure if I still had feelings for him, but I could tell I was scared. The closer the bus got from Tulsa, the bigger my fear grew. And when I got off the bus, I had so much fear that my cold sweat poured from my pores in spite of the heat.  
  
And boy, that place was hot! I even thought about wearing a nice outfit to make a proper arrival, but it was too hot for that, so I had to be happy with my jeans and white tee. I felt a complete mess after all that bus hours and dressed like that.  
  
Looking around, I noticed that the terminal was crowded, so I got my three bags and started to look for some known face. And I almost forgot it wasn't right to look for a 10 year-old, a 13 year-old and a 16 year-old. They had grown, just like me. I leaned against a wall, paralyzed with fear.  
  
"Hey" someone said. "you could have told me you would be dressed like this!"  
  
"Oh, Jesus, Pony!!!" I ran to him. He was obviously taller than me (well, almost every person in the world is).  
  
"Man, you look so... short" he laughed. "And different, look at you!"  
  
"Where is my..." I was just about to ask where Darry was but suddenly he appeared from the middle of the crowd, giving me a bear hug and saying stuff about how nice it was having me back.  
  
Relieved. I guess that's how I felt. I closed my eyes and almost started to cry. Words were escaping me.  
  
"Guys, I..."  
  
Then I stopped in the middle of the sentence, because I had seen, leaning against a wall 35 feet from me, a known face from my past. I widened my eyes and saw the red shirt, the greased light brown hair, the cheeky and thoughtful expression. Everything around me suddenly disappeared, the noise from the engines disappeared and all I could hear was all the songs that reminded me of him playing in my head.  
  
Slowly, I began to walk (in fact I had begun to shuffle) and when I was three steps of distance from my destiny, I stopped, looking right at that person's eyes.  
  
"Sodapop..." and this was all I could manage to say.  
  
We stood there for a moment, as if waiting for one of us to give in. I guess we both did at the same time though, because in a moment I've found myself in his arms.  
  
"Susie" I've heard him saying next to my right ear "it's you, it's really you." 


	13. Thirteen

Chapter Thirteen  
  
At this point of the reading, Carol, the girl from the beginning of the story, who was reading Susan Mary's diary, said to herself:  
  
"Hey, the handwriting changes a little from this point on... why would that happen?"  
  
Then she started to read again.  
  
It's amazing that I haven't written in this notebook since 6/23/67. So many years, so many happenings...  
  
I've found this inside a cabinet down in my basement and had forgotten about its very existence. In the next minute I couldn't stop reading this and felt like I've left the story unfinished.  
  
I know that if someone catches me writing on my diary like a 17-year-old would do, the person will probably think I'm crazy or, at least, completely weird. I'll do it, anyway, and for no reason, continuing from where (or when) I stopped, until I reach today. What day is today? We'll leave it for tomorrow...  
  
It's been a long time though, and I may not remember some details clearly. I'll do my best though, even if it's just to prevent me from the feeling of beginning something and letting it unfinished, un-wrapped.  
  
Let's get down to business then from that night on the bus terminal and on...  
  
Well, Soda was holding me tight and I couldn't stop trembling. I moved away a little to avoid him noticing my trembling. There stood, in front of me, three faces from my childhood, and this time it was for real, it wasn't a dream or a figment from my imagination. This time I wouldn't wake up in Houston missing them after dreaming about them. In spite of that, I was sure that so much has changed since I was 13.  
  
I caught myself wondering if I still was Ponyboy's older sis, like that time we went to the movies and saw "The Hustler" with Paul Newman and afterwards went for an ice cream, while he told me about growing up and being as tough as Paul Newman. Was I still Darry's god-daughter? Was I still Soda's best friend, or even Soda's girlfriend, like that day when we went horseback riding?  
  
Summarizing all that, I almost yelled:  
  
"I just can't believe I am really here!"  
  
They took me to their place. It was almost the same I remembered. And when I got in, I could barely hear Pony asking me not to mind the mess; it seemed like I was hearing Cynthia's voice trying to gather everybody to eat the cake she had just baked.  
  
"Susie, you can have my room. I'll make some space in Soda's closet so that you can use mine, too." Darry said.  
  
"But how?" I was embarrassed. "Where are you going to sleep?"  
  
"In the couch for now. I'll buy a simple bed tomorrow or in the day after and will sleep with the guys in the next room. No problem."  
  
"I've already started to trouble ya" I said, feeling bad.  
  
Pony made me a hand signal as if telling me to shut up. He was a funny kid, who didn't speak his mind much, except when talking to me or to Sodapop.  
  
Hearing Darry's tone of voice made me realize he had grown up to be almost a parent for the other two. Now he had real responsibilities. And Soda, well, he was all too quiet. I was more than used to his jokes, the only one he couldn't overcome was Two Bit. It could be possible that he was this quiet because I was there???  
  
I took a shower and went to bed early with a strange feeling, as if I didn't fit there. 


	14. Fourteen

Chapter Fourteen  
  
I woke up with Elvis on the radio. "Still a noisy place" I smiled. But Soda and Pony didn't seem to mind the racket, because only Darry was awake, fixing breakfast. It was Sunday, but never in my life I could sleep more than 6 hours.  
  
We started to chat about amenities while I helped him. Then we heard a familiar voice coming from outside:  
  
"Is there anybody up? Why is this door locked? It's the first time in, what, a thousand years?"  
  
Pony once told me they never ever locked their door even when they weren't home, because someone of the gang could use shelter. He explained they hadn't valuables there and even if they did, man, they were the Curtis, who would dare to try to mess with them? And so I thought, sadly, that they had locked the door that night because of me.  
  
"Will you open the door, Susie?" Darry asked.  
  
"Are you sure?" I asked him back.  
  
"You have to get used to it, girl, this is your home now. Besides, it's only Two Bit. Imagine his face when he realize who you are."  
  
I practically ran to the door, I was dying to meet Two Bit again. And, as usual, he was already talking even before the door was completely opened.  
  
"Hey, what's so funny about locking... Wooowww what is this? Holy cow!" he gave me a look from head to toes and smiled, a smile that had been his trademark since I've known him. "is this the wrong house or what?"  
  
I studied him. He was just taller than I imagined he would be but he still looked like the old Two Bit. He hadn't changed much and his habits sure hadn't changed either: he wouldn't stop talking for anything in this world!  
  
"I thought" he went on "that good ole Darry only had time to work! Or maybe Ponyboy is getting too precocious! Oh, and what about Soda dating two broads at the same time?"  
  
It came to my mind that Lisa had written me a letter about Soda and Sandra. It appeared that they were still dating, or at least Soda was dating someone. I decided not to let this detail spoil the moment and laughed out loud:  
  
"What's up, Two bit Matthews?"  
  
"Broad" he lifted his eyebrow, another of his trademarks. "you should've told me before that you knew me. That is *really* good to know." "Cut it out, Keith!" I said, an then he was puzzled. He would never ever introduce himself to a girl using his real name.  
  
"Yeah, what about giving me a good look?" I spoke. "I mean it. I can't believe I don't remind you of somebody"  
  
"Hey.... You really do... you really *are* somebody..." He got serious and then, all of a sudden, he came in my direction as if he was willing to take a piece of me "somebody with whom I'd loooove to have a thing!"  
  
He haven't recognized me at all. I pushed him, he fell and stood there, sitting on the kitchen floor, looking at me.  
  
"You're such a..."  
  
"Wait" he interrupted me "this manners of yours... you remind me of someone that went away a long time ago... but it can't be..."  
  
I smiled and he yelled in amazement:  
  
"Susan! I can't believe it! Holy shit!" he got up and hugged me. "you're so beautiful! I can't believe it!"  
  
"I missed you too, Two bit" I said, and then Soda came in the kitchen, yawning:  
  
"I can see that you discovered the big mystery, Two Bit" he was speaking slowly. "Only you could make less noise"  
  
"I'm just excited, man" Two bit explained, grinning. "and as for the mystery, I bet you liked its coming back *a lot*!"  
  
Saying inconveniences is always Two bit's job. Soda blushed a little and gave him no response. I played dumb. Two bit didn't noticed and kept on talking:  
  
"But Sodapop, whether you like it or not, I say she won't stay here beside you in this beautiful Sunday. Yeah, babe, we're going out, meeting some people... imagine Dally's or Tim's face when they see you." Man, I was getting that line a lot.  
  
"Slow down, Two bit. I can't do it today" I explained. "I need to go look for a job. Hey, there's a thing we could do together, job-searching!"  
  
"Baby" he said, grinning "Never in my life I will stain my good name doing this nasty stuff you all call 'work'. Besides, today is Sunday, not a good day to look for it."  
  
He was right, or at least half-right.  
  
"Well" said Soda "*I* have to go stain my good name today at the DX, so I think I better hurry"  
  
"Too bad" Two bit said, debauched "while you work, I'll hang out with the broad."  
  
It was Sodapop's time to play dumb and it was hard for me not to burst into laughter. 


	15. Fifteen

Chapter Fifteen  
  
I walked down Pickett Avenue with Two Bit by my side. He asked me about my life in Texas and I tried to tell him – tried, cause he wouldn't stop talking so much shit that I couldn't believe. Where did he get all that crap from? He was funny though, and as usual he made me laugh. After mom died it was difficult for me to do it. I mean, laughing and even crying hard. Anyway, I was laughing, he was really funny.  
  
We didn't meet anyone I knew. Two Bit knew everybody in the neighborhood, but he didn't talk to a single person: "If I stop to talk to people, they may notice who you really are, but if I don't, they'll think you're my girl!"  
  
I gave him a weak slap. Even though, I knew most people wouldn't remember me. We walked around for a while and then stopped in a market for him to get a Kool (and I think he only paid for that because of me being there) and after, for an ice cream. He started to tell me about his thing with Kathy Simmons, that tall blonde girl who used to live three blocks away from the Curtis', and then I realized he was getting to much excited about it and asked him please not to give me the details.  
  
Chocolate for him, lemon for me, and he went on telling me about the neighborhood and the people I knew. He had that permanent smile on his face but, when I asked him about Johnny, the smile faded. He told me that, a while ago, Johnny was beaten up very bad by some group of socs and would carry scars as a memory of it forever. One of the socs wore some rings which cut Johnny's face and, as if that wasn't enough, they threatened Johnny all the ways they could. After that day Johnny had became even more restless than he already was, and now he carried a huge switchblade in his pocket. Two Bit's opinion was Johnny would use it without even thinking on the first who tried to lay a hand on him.  
  
Hearing that made me very uncomfortable, so I started eating my ice cream in silence. Poor Johnny, the sweet kid who would never hurt an ant. I didn't know what to say.  
  
Something came to my mind when I saw Sodapop and Steve Randle enter the diner and sit in front of the counter. I gave Two Bit my best grin and said "Showtime!!!"  
  
"You haven't change a bit, have you girl?" Two Bit laughed. He was surely having a great time.  
  
"Nooooo, I haven't... let's play a little with our friend Steve. I hope Sodapop gets the picture and play with me."  
  
"You two were such brats when you were 12; now with 17 you together must be worse than myself!"  
  
I wasn't hearing him. I looked at Steve. It would be easy recognizing Steve Randle even in a billion years, insolently handsome as he was. Sodapop had noticed me, I made him a head sign and he blinked. "Sodapop got it, Two Bit" I said, then started to stare at Steve.  
  
I stared at him for about three minutes until he noticed. When he did, I gave him a blink.  
  
He and Soda started to discuss about something. It was impossible for me to hear them, but I could tell for sure what they were talking about. I was positive that Sodapop had started the conversation by saying "Hey Steve, that broad just gave you a blink". He would do that even though he knew that all the girls were always blinking to *him*. Steve was handsome, alright, but putting him by Soda's side was like putting Woody Allen by Robert Redford's.  
  
That was starting to get funny, so I blinked again, and they started to talk louder. "Soda could be an actor", I thought. As for Two Bit, he would die in laughter in that very moment if this wouldn't spoil the game.  
  
I blinked once again and could tell Steve was getting a little pissed. Suddenly he and Soda were in front of our table.  
  
"I saw you blinking at me" Steve said "and it wasn't funny at all. You shouldn't be hitting on somebody else like that, below our pal's nose. I think chicks like you deserve to be corrected." He was really thinking I was with Two Bit.  
  
Steve always had that "macho" thing. Besides, there was a girl fucking up with his friend, and I knew he wouldn't stand it for nothing. I was pleased to see that I had created the mess the exact way I wanted it to be.  
  
After taking a deep breath, I got on my feet, looked at Steve Randle and said:  
  
"And what makes you think that it was you I was blinking at, hood?"  
  
That was truly dangerous, I was hurting Steve's ego. Two Bit shrugged between the table and his chair, trying so hard not to laugh.  
  
"I couldn't care less who you blinked at" Steve was mad "you're fucking my pal up anyway." Then he turned to Soda and said "See? I told ya this was with you" he lowered his voice "She's gorgeous, but anyway she's nothing but a slut."  
  
"Heyyy watch your trap" I yelled.  
  
"What a brass neck you are, bitch!" God, he was really pissed off "Where did you get this white trash, Two Bit? Did she blink at you or something?"  
  
"Calm down, you guys" Soda decided to step in. I guess he would act this exact way if the trouble was for real. "Girl, what did you want anyway? Who were you blinking at?"  
  
"Wait a second" Two Bit said, cynically "I kept quiet until now because I didn't really know what to say but... you should be ashamed, girl" it was hysterical seeing Two Bit trying to look serious. "no bitch will fuck with Two Bit Matthews."  
  
"See? See?" Steve looked victorious "I suggest we kick her ass right here and now." Silence. No one dared to say a thing. I opened my eyes as wide as I could and stared at Steve's angry face. Soda had the funniest amazement look on his face and Two bit tried to hold his laughter until he couldn't anymore: then he let go, laughing out loud, a laughter that was only his.  
  
Of course I couldn't hold my own laughter and neither did Soda. Steve just stood there looking like some idiot, with everybody laughing on his face.  
  
"Now I'm sure" Two Bit said "that you're still a brat, Susan Mary Jones!"  
  
Steve took a while to realize what was going on, then he widened his eyes and yelled:  
  
"Jeez, you're back! I'll kill ya, I'll kill ya all!" 


	16. Sixteen

Chapter Sixteen  
  
After playing that little trick on Steve, I realized it was late and that I needed to go to bed. It was hard to get used, though, to the idea that Soda was going to the same direction as me, since now I lived in his place.  
  
The sun was almost gone and we both walked in silence. I thought that he might say something about what we had done, that it was funny or anything like that, but he didn't. I felt my hands covered with my cold sweat. Being next to him again was scary.  
  
After a few blocks I decided to take a chance:  
  
"You didn't forgive me at all, did ya?"  
  
He stopped but didn't look at me; instead he kept looking at his shoes:  
  
"Oh, come on, Susan!"  
  
"What do you mean, 'come on, Susan'? You know it wasn't my fault! I've been trying to reach you by phone or by mail since I moved to Houston! And now I'm here and you barely talk to me. You can't ignore me for ever, ya know."  
  
"I'm not ignoring you."  
  
"Oh yes you are" I sighed "you're acting cold. And I said I was sorry like a thousand times. I was 13, ya know, I couldn't just do as I pleased, I had a father to obey. To make things worse, my father couldn't take care of me for much longer, I had to take care of him, otherwise he would die. And he eventually died anyway. I am so sorry I couldn't be here when you needed me, like you where there for me when I needed you. But Soda, think about it... everybody understood, everybody but you!"  
  
He just stood there, looking at me. And finally, he spoke slowly:  
  
"When I came home from the farm and Two Bit told me you were gone, I got kinda stunned... he gave me your message and everything... I was so mad at you, but some days later I thought that it didn't matter since you weren't coming back anyway..." he took a deep breath "don't you have a clue about how hard for me it would be to write you or talk to you on the phone without being able to invite you to a movie or to go horseback riding?"  
  
I kept quiet.  
  
"And then, when they died" for some reason he couldn't say 'mom and dad' "it's been years since the last time we had spoken, but when you called me... I... I..."  
  
"Ok, Soda, it's fine. I got the picture. Just leave it, ok?"  
  
"I don't know what to say anyway..." he hesitated "I'm just glad you're here, Susie."  
  
Seeing him smiling warmed my heart, and made me feel so much better...  
  
"Let's just go home, ok?" he said, taking me by the hand. 


	17. Seventeen

Chapter Seventeen  
  
It seemed like Sodapop was in the mood for jokes that night, because when we got home and found Ponyboy reading some of his books, he just blinked at me and then grabbed Pony's arms, I grabbed his legs and we threw him on the couch over and over again, while he asked us to stop and if we were doing that silly thing just for the old times sake.  
  
The phone rang and I answered it, but I barely could hear what the person on the other side was saying cause of their laughter.  
  
"Hush you two. Hello?" I said, again.  
  
"Hello? Who's this?" it was a feminine voice.  
  
"Susan Mary."  
  
"Oh" the voice said. "I must have dialed the wrong number..."  
  
"That depends. Where did you call?"  
  
"Curtis' place. But I think there's no Susan there."  
  
"You dialed the right number, in fact. I'm just... I ..." I kinda stuttered. How to explain what I was doing there?  
  
"Are you by any chance Darrel's girlfriend?"  
  
"Huh, huh, I'm..."  
  
"So you might be Pony's, right?" that woman just wouldn't let me finish.  
  
"Wrong guess. In fact I am..."  
  
"I hope you won't tell me you're Soda's girlfriend!" she said, and I got curious to know why it would be that impossible.  
  
"Why?" I asked.  
  
"Because *I* am! Hi, my name is Sandy, and it's nice talking to ya!" she said slyly.  
  
"Gooooood point" I felt like diggin a hole in the ground and disappearing through it. It was better just to hand the phone to Soda and so I did, without a word. So, they were still together. Man, how could he?  
  
She hasn't remembered my name. And before telling Pony I was going to take a shower, I still could hear a bit of their conversation; Soda asking her if she remembered me, that I was his parents' god-daughter and needed a place to stay for nine months until I turned 18. Man, I felt like some homeless. Also, he told her 'not to worry'. Not t worry about what, for Christ's sake??? What was she thinking anyway, that I was going to take a piece of him or something???  
  
I took my bath and, after that, realized that only Darry and Pony were home. I didn't bother asking about Soda. Fifteen minutes after the guys went to bed and I stretched myself in the couch to watch some TV (Darry had already bought him an extra bed, it was just like him, not leaving anything to tomorrow).  
  
I was almost asleep when somebody opened the door – it was Soda, all covered with lipstick and with red-purple marks in his neck which looked like... hickies? Oh Jesus. Sandra Kane was grabbing him by his neck and she seemed sluttier than ever. I had to admit, though, that she was beautiful, with her natural blonde hair. Her eyes were nice too, they had a china-blue color. Ok, that was a start.  
  
When they opened the door, I instantly started to pretend I was sleeping, so I couldn't stare much. I could see enough, though, to realize she was prettier than me. But why in the world she had to wear that awful clothes and all that make up? I didn't remember her to be so slutty, maybe she was spending much time with Sylvia.  
  
"We'd better stay at the porch" I heard Soda saying. "I don't want to bother Susan, she has to wake up early in the morning to go looking for a job."  
  
"She sure has changed" Sandra said. "Well Sodapop, I have to say I don't really feel comfortable with you having this girl living here with ya."  
  
Annoying girl.  
  
"Let's just go outside" he said. I kept my eyes shut. Lucky me, cause five minutes after he came back, alone. It was too cold outside for the sweethearts to make out at the porch. Ha. Ha. Ha.  
  
Jealous? Me? No way. 


	18. Eighteen

Chapter Eighteen  
  
The next few days I went out looking for a job, and decided to take my chances on a public kindergarten located on the West Side, since the I had no special abilities but taking care of children and teaching them. I actually got lucky, they needed a teacher and I had a fine resume.  
  
A place in the Choir was easy to get, too. Of course it wouldn't be so easy if Ms. Collins hadn't given me that recommendation letter. Concerning the ballet stuff, I knew I had to take a test and they would only admit me if I showed them some very good work, so I went there, scheduled an audition and left.  
  
School was the worst part. My legal responsible had to sign some papers. But who was this person, my legal responsible? Apparently I hadn't any, at least until they catch me. Dad's signature wasn't so hard to mimic, so I did it. Now my hands were dirty, but what the fuck, it was just a piece of paper and I was just a kid eager to complete school.  
  
When I got home, Pony was reading and Darry watched a movie. I told them about my adventures of that day and Darry offered himself to go with me to the ballet audition, just to cross his fingers. Everything seemed ok then, but after dinner Darry started scolding Pony, I guess the kid hasn't finished his homework. Soda got home in that very moment and it sucked, after all he was the guy in the middle and I knew perfectly well how miserable he could get when his brothers argued.  
  
I didn't want to stay there, not only because of the fight, but because of Soda's presence too. So I went for a walk, then realized I would kill for a slice of cheesecake. I stopped at the first diner I found, sat at the counter and ordered a huge piece of cheesecake with an indecent quantity of strawberry topping on it. My mood instantly got better.  
  
Then I saw a familiar face sliding the diner door. It was the last person I wanted to meet, Dallas Winston in his own flesh and blood. And who was that guy behind him? You could barely notice, but Dallas was not alone, he had a short guy with black hair and cinnamon-tanned skin in his company.  
  
I had to fight the urge to run to him, give him a big hug and scream "Johnnycake, how good it is to see ya!", cause I really wanted to stay far from Dallas, at least at that moment. But Dallas Winston wouldn't be Dallas Winston if he was at the same room that any girl and didn't try to get her or at least to bother her. In a minute he was seated next to me and started to mess with my hair.  
  
"Fine hair you got here... I've always preferred the brunettes..." he said, while I sat there quietly. All Johnny could do was look and shake his head slowly.  
  
When he started to touch my neck, I couldn't stand it.  
  
"Fuck off" I said, grabbing his hand.  
  
He lifted and eyebrow and gave me a dangerous grin:  
  
"I think, broad, that you don't know who I am... and what I am capable of..."  
  
"I know who you are" I yelled "and I know you much more than I wanted to!"  
  
I felt Johnny looking at me as if he was trying to remember where he had seen me before.  
  
"Sure you do know me." Dallas said, stuffing his chest. "Everybody knows me. But if you knew me, I mean, if you knew me for real, you'd know that I like to be respected. See?"  
  
"I pretty much know why everybody respects you so much! Cause everybody is so afraid of you they shit their pants! That's why!"  
  
Dallas' face was starting to look red. Boy, that was dangerous. At this point Johnny decided to say something:  
  
"Wait! There's only one person in this world who'd say those stuff..."  
  
"Johnny...?" I smiled. "Hey, Johnny!"  
  
Johnnycake gave me a hug and man, you should see Dally's face. Puzzled wouldn't be enough to describe it. I mean, Johnny never even talked to girls and now he was hugging one!  
  
"If you know her, pal" said poor Dallas, who had a question mark printed on his forehead "you'd better introduce me."  
  
"Dal, don't you remember Lil' Susie here?" Johnny said with a grin.  
  
"Well well well" Dallas spoke "I thought she was familiar, anyway. You've grown, huh? And I surely prefer "now" than "then"!"  
  
"Back off, Dallas. I didn't forget how nervous you were minutes ago."  
  
He thought it was better to keep his mouth shut and I started to tell Johnny why I had to come back and about all my stuff. And I couldn't help remembering what Two Bit had told me about Johnny, he really seemed uneasy, even more than before.  
  
We were all trying to survive. By teaching kids, like me; by dreaming, like Pony; by doing nasty stuff, like Dally; by carrying a huge switchblade, like Johnny. We sure had our own ways. 


End file.
